


Mistakes Made In Vegas

by Moorishflower



Series: The Mistakes 'Verse [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-02
Updated: 2010-08-02
Packaged: 2017-10-10 21:59:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/104770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moorishflower/pseuds/Moorishflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens in Vegas isn't really the problem - it's how you deal with the aftermath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mistakes Made In Vegas

  
Dean opens his eyes. He's naked, he has a splitting headache, a very sore ass, and his mouth tastes like he, at some point, licked an ogre's armpit and then stuffed a wad of cotton under his tongue. The sound of Las Vegas traffic is almost unbearably loud.

Oh, and there are two warm bodies in bed with him, one on his left and one on his right.

He is almost completely positive that he's been in this situation before.

A quick glance to the right reveals Gabriel, eyes half-open in that weird not-asleep-but-still-resting way that angels have. His hair is mussed and full of glitter, and he's got a smudge of lipstick at the corner of his mouth. Dean reflexively reaches up to touch his lips – his fingertips come back clean. _Thank god_.

He turns to the left, but whoever else is in bed with him has their head buried underneath a hotel pillow. All he can make out is dark, ruffled hair and pale skin.

There's a very familiar trench coat lying in a crumpled heap on the floor, though.

"Oh god," Dean groans. His voice is hoarse – his throat feels like he got into a drinking contest and the liquor of choice was sandpaper. "Oh my god."

"Shh," Gabriel murmurs. He winds one arm around Dean's waist, squeezing gently. Dean feels like he's going to puke. "Go back to sleep."

"If you don't let go of me _right the fuck now_ I'm going to hurl all over you," Dean croaks. Gabriel stills, and then lets go of him so fast Dean's surprised he doesn't break the sound barrier. He scrambles out of bed, dragging the sheets down and away from both Gabriel and the other person…and yeah, that's definitely who he thinks it is, because he'd recognize that long swan's neck and those elegant hands anywhere.

Of course, at the moment he's more interested in getting to the bathroom than he is in anatomy, so there's still a chance he might be wrong. The nausea abates some after he splashes cold water on his face, and Dean feels infinitely better after he's rinsed his mouth out and emptied his bladder, which gives Gabriel just enough time to wake up fully.

"Oh, hey Castiel," Dean hears, and he immediately hangs his head and counts to five.

Sure enough… "What happened," drifts in from the bedroom. Castiel's voice is walking a fine edge between 'really fucking pissed off' and 'utterly and unabashedly horrified.' Dean dries his hands, then walks back out into the bedroom just in time to see Gabriel produce a piece of paper from…somewhere on his person. Dean isn't sure he wants to know. Hopefully he was just…lying on it, or something.

"Looks like we got hitched!" Gabriel crows. Dean freezes. It feels like someone's just poured ice water directly down his spine.

"_What_," he and Castiel say at the same time, and they make a simultaneous grab for the piece of paper that Gabriel is holding. Gabriel, contrary being that he is, immediately twists his body to protect it, huddling into a vague comma shape.

"Give it here, Gabriel," Dean grits out. As pleased as he is to see Castiel (he has the vague idea that he was please last night, too), he's more interested in their apparent _marriage_, right now.

"Messieurs and Missus Dean, Gabriel, and Castiel Winchester," Gabriel cackles, crinkling the paper at the edges. Dean swipes at it, and Gabriel curls further in on himself, like a fucking armadillo or something.

"Who's the Missus?" he asks desperately.

"Dean," Castiel says. There's a note of disapproval in his voice, and Dean shrugs. Priorities are priorities.

"Looks like I am," Gabriel says. The fact that he doesn't sound at all put out about it makes Dean think that he must have missed out on Gabriel having an _awesome_ rack. Fuck.

"We are…married?" Castiel asks hesitantly, and Gabriel finally uncurls himself, passing the paper – the _certificate_ \- over.

"In the state of Nevada, at least," he says, and Dean drops down onto the edge of the bed. He realizes he's still naked, and grabs for one of the pillows, holding it defensively over his crotch. Gabriel leers at him.

"No need to be coy after what we spent all night doing," he purrs. Dean feels all the blood drain from his face.

"Oh god," he says faintly.

"This is a binding marriage," Castiel says. Dean can't tell if he sounds pleased (that someone's finally made an honest man of Dean) or horrified (that _he's_ the one who's doing it). "I…appear to be your husband. Congratulations. I suppose."

"Does that mean you're going to stick around?" Gabriel asks eagerly. "I mean, between being married and needing to keep tabs on me and my bondmate, here…"

Castiel looks like he's thinking about strangling someone.

"Has anyone seen my pants?" Dean asks, a tad desperately. Gabriel snorts, then gestures back towards the bathroom.

"They're drying in the tub," he says. "You decided you wanted to go swimming in the Bellagio fountains, but then you slipped and we had to carry you back here."

"Please tell me that's why my ass hurts."

"Maybe," Gabriel says, batting his eyes.

"Dean," Castiel interrupts, "if we are married, then consummation is required."

Gabriel's face lights up like a kid in a candy store.

Dean makes a sound that he's pretty sure is a whimper, and then makes a break for the bathroom. Hopefully, his cell phone is still in the pocket of his jeans, and it hasn't been ruined by water, because he needs to call Sam and tell him where he is.

And possibly ask to be rescued.


End file.
